Painted Red
by Sparkling Dragon Tears
Summary: Pointless musings written in an emo mood. Gets squickish from ch. 2. Weasley angst and addiction. W: Alcohol abuse, S&M, self harm, language, implied incest and slash later. RnR please.
1. Liquid fire

Disclaimer: JKR Owns the Harry Potter people that I have so wrongfully twisted.

Ok, I'm just going to say this, my friend was killed in a car accident this past weekend and I've been feeling emo. So I decided to write this, and I think it turned out well.

Here it is, This is all in, I think, 5 oneshots, all in random Weasley POV's about their addictions. It's a little squicky later on so it's rated highly. But this shows Bill and Charlie first, then FnG, then Ron and last Ginny. There is really no point to this except that I was feeling emo and wanted to write.

So without further ado, please enjoy,

**Painted red**  
--  
_Have you ever been so hurt that you would do anything to take the pain away? Have you ever just wished yourself better? Have you looked for a way to take out the misery? Remove the guilt? Banish the anger? Have you actually tried to do something about it, or just bottled it up? Well, let's explore some ways to take away the darkness in your heart. Some ways used to give you a calm high. Let's take the hurt away, shall we?_

**Bill's thoughts and troubles.  
The alcohol burn of fire and red wine.**

I hate being looked up to. Why do I have to be perfect? Just because I'm older doesn't mean that I know everything. Merlin! How am I supposed to run everything when you're gone? I'm just a kid. But apparently I'm not. I can't have responsibility and still have fun. There's no more time to be a kid. I'm grown up now, graduated. I'm supposed to live on my own, have a job, run my life. When you grow up with someone always there for you, when you grow up with so many people around you, when you grow up always being taken care of, you learn it's a harsh, cold world out there when you're thrown out alone. Yeah, I'm Bill and yeah, I'm the first to leave, and yeah, it scares me.

I've been trying to live on my own for a few years now. It's hard, I have to say. I go to colleges all day so maybe I can get that job I want at Gringott's, then I work all night and earn barely enough money for the flat I'm renting, much less food. Like I say, it's hard. Maybe now that Charlie's graduated, we can live in the same place. That way, while he's working, he can help pay some bills and I might be able to cut a few hours work and get a few extra hours sleep. Hopefully, he'll be up for it. Right now though, I think he's living in college dorms, training to be a certified Dragon trainer. I wish I would have chosen to live in the dorms. It's bloody less concern knowing I'll be eating a hot dinner every night. But nope, I'm not. I'll just have to wait a few more years until something good comes from my hard work and sleepless nights. Just think, next year, I'll be graduated for real this time!

**ONE YEAR LATER**

Wow. I never knew it would feel this empty to be free from school. School ended a few months ago and now I'm graduated. I've quit my nightly job and gained incredible sleep. Now I have a job here in Egypt. I work all day and I'm far from home, but being in a division of Gringott's bank, I earn enough money to survive. Whoever said money makes you happy, was apparently a bumbling idiot. They honestly knew nothing. I have to tell you, it's empty, going to work every day as a routine. I get up, shower, get dressed, go to work, count money for endless hours, get home, eat, and sleep once again. Sure it's not very stressful, but it is incredibly boring. There's nothing else to life, and I don't see my family anymore. If not for occasional writings, there's nothing tying me to my old life back home. There is one spark in life though. One thing that keeps me alive. It doesn't seem like me, and you'd never think I'd be one to drink, but yeah. I am.

Every few nights, I go out and apparate to a club. I'll meet Charlie there and we'll talk about how our lives are going. Apparently, Charlie doesn't get why I'm so down about routine. He has a blast at his job. He loves to go into work every day and try to learn new things about Dragons. But yeah, of course he'd be happy. He was always a happy little bugger. And now that he's got a job he loves, a job that he's wanted his whole dragon-loving life, there's nothing for him to be down about. He just meets me here to drink and reminisce, because I can tell he misses our family as much as I do. He once asked why we didn't just apparate home to visit, but he knew as well as I did that if we did, we'd never come back, we both miss our home and childhood too much. Being back would be too painful a reminder. Anyway, Charlie comes here to visit me, in the little bar called Hell's Fire, right between our two locations. See, I come here to drown away my sorrow and pain in the spicy drinks served for next-to-nothing by the bartender that has become our friend, over the many times we have been here. Sometimes I think he just comes with me to make sure I don't kill myself, but the point is, he's here and I can always look forward to this time we still have together to act like the children we wish we could be, to have the times that are long since gone.

You know, there's a reason this place is called Hell's fire. The alcohol haze burns your nostrils the second you enter, and the drinks themselves are even better than that. There's the simply put 'burn' as the liquid runs down your throat and is like an acid that corrodes you from the inside out. The simple wine, bitter like blood, or sweet and stinging like a spoiled juice. Or the flaming vodka that is so thin you could choke, expecting it thicker. The whiskey that makes you gag with it's thick, heaviness, making you feel like you're drowning. The drinks that are thin enough to make you get tipsy, or the ones so thick, they smash you immediately and by the second drink, feel like syrup running down your throat. Either way, whatever you drink, you know that when you enter this place, there's no way you're walking out without a hangover potion in your pocket. That's why sometimes I think Charlie comes. Not just to spend time with me, but to make sure that I have that potion, to make sure that I can apparate or floo even though my limbs are heavy like sandbags, and I can't see at all. Sometimes it hurts me so much just to know that Charlie seems like the responsible one. He shouldn't have to be. I'm the older one. I was always meant to be the on that takes care of all my younger siblings. Not the other way around. So there's another thing to add to my list of reasons to drink.

This list. This list isn't 'real' so to speak, but it does exist. It's in my head. Locked in the files of the black hole that is my mind. This list seems to just grow longer all the time. I've wondered if I should take antidepressants at times. But I'd rather not get addicted. I suppose you could say it was worse to be a drinker, but still, I guess it's just pride. Who'd trust a bank teller who's hopped up on pills? Well either way. This list is not getting shorter. Day by day I fill my empty hours by adding onto the list. I don't suggest getting hooked on drinking though. It has given me reason to live, something to look forward to, day after day, but I do know that it's slowly killing me. There's not much I can do. Charlie's there for me and I know he will be till the end. That there is one reason I know I should stop, but since I can't, I'm not going to waste my time and suffering trying. I'd rather enjoy my time with Charlie and my sweet elixir that keeps me sane.

_Heed warnings of addiction's bliss.  
-Bill Weasley_

Always be there, the one time you aren't, may be their last.  
-Charlie Weasley

--  
Well, what did you think? I hope you liked it! The next chapter is Fred and George. I hope you'll like the rest of this. Please don't flame me. I'm only writing this via emotion. As usual, please review? 


	2. Blood lust

Once again, stay away from this if you are against things like torture and bondage. Here it gets squickish. Also remember there is no real point to this. Just musings. I do hope you'll like it though.

--

**A twin's tale.  
The red illusion of blood lust.**

Have you ever needed to cause pain, to release pain? No, I'm not a cutter. But I'm sure that soon enough you'll know what I'm talking about. You see, my twin brother and I are both Sadists. There's a certain, orgasmic thrill in being the one with control. The one with power. Being able to manipulate _anyone_, into doing whatever you please. You can make anyone do anything you want really, if there's enough fear involved. Sure, it's fun with fear. People scream more, squirm more, cry more. If you give them enough fear, you make them sweat, make them plead and beg. Make them _want_ to do anything. Give you more power. More of a high. More of a pulsing, strong, rhythmic, level state of mind. When you get what you want, when you do get that power, you feel on top of the world, you feel like there's nothing you can't do.

As I say, sure it's fun with fear, but it's almost a challenge when the person wants it. Take Ron for example. He may tell his story, and I personally can't see it from his point of view, but he takes it. Anything George and I could dish out, Ron took it with glazed eyes. He didn't cry out when we would hit him. He wouldn't flinch when we took a sharp knife to his chest and agonizingly slow, carved into the rock-hard skin. He would moan in a state of ecstasy when our candles would drip the hot wax onto his open cuts. He was always a challenge for us. You can tell by the amusement in his eyes, that he's looking for something new and original. George and I are trying, really we are. We've pushed our knowledge, did things we've never thought of before, worked together and took turns. Anything we did Ron just took. It gave us a frustration, that we were trying so hard to get done what we needed to, but honestly, Ron was like a punching bag. Anger, frustration, hurt, pain, it only goes so far on him. Which naturally is arousing anyway and we get what we're looking for, but sometimes I just wish we were better than this. I wish that we could do something to break our smug little bitch, but it's not going to happen. Ron just loves to challenge us, just to see how far we'll go until we can break him. Does he split soul from body? Merlin. What are we supposed to do?

We keep going that's what. We hit harder, fuck more, push harder to try and get out this tension and frustration. Press our limits and luck, knowing he wants this pain as much as we want to give it. Like I say, this is our way to keep sane. We've been at it for years. I know personally, that I'm a wimp. I hate pain and I'm honestly a wuss. I can't take pain at all. I'll bruise, cringe, cry. But giving that sweet misery to anyone else is outstanding. To hit as hard as you can and never feel a thing. To kick or swing with all your strength, to be able to hear that crack against tight flesh, to be able to watch skin tinge pink, rip open, bruise before your eyes and knowing that you've done it. You've done it and you won't be hit back. To see someone struggle against binds, to see ropes digging into someone's wrists, to smell the metallic, fresh blood that floods from the prison that it's normally behind forever. To see the tears leaking from unwilling victim's eyes, I tell you, it's just a rush. You can't help but grin, smile, even laugh when they try to escape. You do have the power. Sometimes I see why you-know-who is the way he is. It's terrible what he does, but he's not too much off his rocker. He likes the fine art of bondage, of torture. Ok, maybe it's sick and wrong, and everyone hates him for it, but I suppose myself and George are no different than him. Maybe people should be out to get us? Well, as long as there are some people in this world that need the torture as much as we need to give it to keep sane, then I suppose it evens out.

_Maybe sick and twisted isn't a bad thing.  
-Fred Weasley_

Maybe it's all in point of view.  
-George Weasley

--  
Ok. I hope you liked this one. Next up is, yep. Ron.  
It's hard to see inside other people. See what they're thinking. Read the fine lines of wrong and right.  
Beware the squick. :)  
I hope you liked.  
Please review. 


	3. Raw

Yeah. Short, squick.  
Terribly redundant. Hints incest.

I'm gonna thank my reviewers. Thanks. XD  
Yeah, I know, not the best, but remember, I only wrote this when I was in a terrible emo mood.

Now, enjoy.

--  
**Ron's story.  
Raw.**

Yes. I'll admit it. As you've heard, I, Ron, am masochistic. A simple rush of pain is enough to set me off and to calm my nerves. I soon enough learned that simple cuts or burns were just not enough to fill my desire. I needed something more than the twinge of a knife. I knew Fred and George were into that sort of, S&M thing. So one day, I summoned up the courage to ask them. I told them that I needed the addicting pain that I knew they had. They were so high and mighty, asking me if I was sure. Could I handle it? Would it be too much? Was I sure that this wasn't just a phase? I challenged them with a 'Bloody hell yes. Fucking punch me right now and see what happens.' Needless to say, they weren't up to it. They wanted to keep their baby brother safe and innocent from the 'harsh, real world'. Well, to show them that I _NEEDED_ this, I had to be a little drastic. These guys had yet to put away their ropes that I easily spotted tied to the headrest of the bed. So I took one of them and made a slip knot. By the time they realized that I wasn't joking, this rope was strangling my smirking, blue, nearly airless face.

So after grudgingly accepting that little Ronnekins was into this, they eventually began to help me with my strange desire. I've never gone to anyone but them, but I know that no one else will be more of a thrill. These guys are constantly coming up with new ideas. Past belts and handcuffs, past candle wax (although it did take them a while to think of it), past knives and ropes, past rape (which doesn't count really, because I knew exactly what the two wanted and I wanted it too.), past the burns and blindfolds. I think after a while of my simply soaking up the firey heat on my skin, my letting myself get high with the loss of my blood and misery, lost in a whole other universe from the bruising power of two sets of binding hands, the twins figured out they needed more. I'm glad that I could help them in the way they're helping me. I really just need to find something that pushes me over the edge. I need something that will jar my mind, something to tell me that this is sick and wrong, something that will make me cry. So I challenge the two evil geniuses. They think of new methods of torture, new agonizing, sweet pain. These two masterminds have yet to push me over the edge, but they've occasionally come close. But I have yet to tell them this. I don't want them to get too cocky. In truth, I hate that they feel like they aren't fulfilling their sadistic desires, but I love that I have to make them keep thinking, that they _WANT_ to keep going. I know that they want to break me as much as I want to be broken. They may think they have all the power, but in my going to them, I have just as much as them. Without my cries, my tears, without my struggles, they have to work harder, and I know that turns them on as much as it does me. I know that I need this pain, you know.

In fact, I've figured out that I wouldn't trust anyone but them. They're the only ones that won't give up on me. They're always looking for a way to fill my unspoken desires. I know that the twins will continue to look for this answer and that I'll be their 'tester', much like I always have been for their jokes, until they get it right. Of course, this isn't just a joke. I know they could often times push just a little too hard and kill me in an instant. But you see, I don't care. If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. I also know though, that the twins will tell people willingly that they are into kink or basically just torture. I however, don't want to tell anyone. No one will give me what I want except for the twins, so why risk losing friendships, or scaring people, or trashing my reputation more, if no one will help me? Well, either way, next time you see me smile, look closer. See if you can find any unhidden bruises, or any spots of skin missing. See if there's something amiss. Maybe if you looked closer to more people, you'd see that there are more people actually are messed up. Anyway, maybe you're like Fred and George and you'll find someone like me. Well, best of luck to you and I hope you find your release.

_Don't be afraid of pain.  
-Ronald Weasley_

--  
Yep. Emo. Review. :) 


	4. Gin Rummy

Sorry for any wait. Thanks to all my reviewers and readers. This is the end as I had originally planned it. However, I think I'm going to post an epilogue. 

**Once again, redundant, squick, emo, incest mentioned, terribly short. Sounds like she's talking with ADD. But it makes sense if you take time to think about it, and not just skim over the words.** Kinda.

Well, sorry bout the ADD thing. The other stuff _is_ intentional. I think. Ha.

I hope I don't disappoint anyone with this chapter, nor annoy them to death.

Enjoy.  
--

**Gin Rummy.  
Gambling with life.**

Hello. I'm Gin, and not the drink. I've never told anyone before, so I'll tell you, now. I'm a cutter, and don't bother to hide it. Yeah, I said I've never told anyone, but no one's ever asked about the mysterious gashes across my hand, palm, arms or legs. My theory is that if they ask me, I may as well tell them, but no one seems to notice, or at the least, care.

I'll tell you how I started this. I know about Fred and George. I know about Ron too. I've seen Ron cutting. His eyes looked dull and hollow. He isn't even phased by the blade on his arm. But I've seen the spark in his eyes, the grin across his face while Fred holds him down and George fucks the hell out of him. It's weird to say the least. Ron is a major masochist and thinking of the twins as torturous, sadists... just creepy. I will say, when I first found out, I was a scared. I was confused and worried. This was disgusting, wrong, against everything of human nature, incest and pain for Merlin's sake! But...

Once... Once I was really mad. I was mad, scared, sad, hurt. After a death of a friend, being suppressed as the youngest, being ignored and confused all the time, it wears on you. So once I decided to see why Ron did what he did; I knew that I'd never be able to hurt people like the twins, I am a kind-hearted person. So I tried self-inflicted, intentional pain, just like Ron. I mean, obviously it works for some people.

So once I started with a knife, I discovered it's joys. I would poke through the skin and drag my sweet, silver blade through my flesh, cutting it open, letting the beautiful blood spill out. Once in a while, a little prick would send just enough blood through to send a shiver up my spine and adrenaline through my veins. I'd bring my thumb to my mouth and twirl my soft tongue around the magic, coppery taste of my blood. _MY_ blood. The wonderful, bitter, sour and sweet taste of crimson. That's what my life tastes like, a metallic mixture of emotions, in a raw, agony of unique taste.

However, thrill is short lived. Adrenaline only rushes for a moment at the start of a cut. I soon figured out that knives and razor blades were lame. They'd lost their power. The slits were simple, like paper cuts. No longer painful, no longer relieving pain, confusion and anger. Cuts were simply cuts. They'd burn for a second like a paper cut. They'd simply set a twinge. Then nothing. A little itch. That's the only way to describe the feeling, an _itch_. You just have the urge to scratch it. I suppose maybe that would be natural endorphins kicking in, but still!

Trying new things is always good, isn't it? That's what every adult will tell a child at some point in their meaningless lives. So I discarded my bland blades and did just that. Tried something new. Basically everything was terrible and useless. Nothing did anything except make gorgeous scars. By the way, If you ever notice my fingers running over a cut, know that it's a natural comfort. I run my fingers over the beautiful scars, just to feel them and calm myself, relive that moment when it was made. _But anyway_, moving on. I eventually got desperate, needing to release the feeing built up inside me. I found a last resort safety pin. At first, I wasn't sure how it would cut. I already knew that the palms had more pores than anywhere else and that they were highly sensitive, so I ran the pin over my hand just hard enough to scratch red welts on my pink spotted hands. After a moment, I found a soft spot and scratched a little deeper. I ran over the spot four times, harder and deeper each time. My fingers twitched and I grinned. This was definitely great. Running over a cut more than once just to make it through the skin was the best way. There was enough pain to satisfy myself, it would scar and it was slower than a simple paper like cut.

Anyway, there isn't much of the story to my release. I simply found a newer way to cut. Better than the tiny jolt of electricity from a knife. The newer, better way to help lose my sorrows. The fiery pain of slow torturous, self injury that is just slow enough to work. Enough light to break my night and start a new day. Just enough to keep me going when I'm down. So, as I say good-bye, may I wish you happy dwellings, and luck to yourselves. Hopefully you will not be addicted to anything terrible enough to harm you. I myself know there are better ways to vent, but it's too late for me. I don't want to stop by now. To you yourselves, I suggest trying new things. Who knows, something amazing and thrilling might just come out of it. But eventually, know that that thrill _will_ be gone, and you'll have to move on. So, with that, I wish you luck in your endeavors, and good day.

_Come what may, but guide your own destiny.  
-Ginny Weasley_

--  
Yeah, Remember, I'm going to add an epilogue for Percy.  
Sorry that it sounds like ADD, for the last time.  
Was written emo mood. Sorry if it sucks. But I don't really care. If you didn't like it, go read a different fic. :)

Hope you enjoyed.  
No flames, it was your fault if you didn't read the warnings.  
Yep. I'll try to end soon.  
Review.  
Read my other stories.  
Good day. 


End file.
